The Magic of Evening

I must say, or rather write, that I cannot recall the last time I went for an evening trail run.  The weather was perfect too.  We had a little rain this afternoon, it was muggy by evening, but with a delightfully cool breeze. 

No near fail here.  My right shin felt tight running up Cholla trail, but that quickly ironed out.  I need to do this more often.  What was I thinking trying to run in the middle of the afternoon.  Note to self:  change things up more often.   I knew there was a reason I loved late sunsets.  How did I forget?

Running up Cholla Trail:

West Ridge on the way to Top of the World:

Saddleback Mountains:

Top of the World:

Near Fail

Last weekend I stashed water at the top of Maple Springs for a group run that I posted for today.  Turns out the weather was a bit cooler than the past few days.  Super good thing, being that we didn’t begin until 7:00 AM. 

Seven of us set off up Maple Springs Road to “Four Corners.”  I took up the back right away with aching shins and tight calves.  I stopped to stretch several times, to no avail.  The pain in both shins only worsened causing a constant stabbing as I made my way up the mountain alone. 

I thought to myself, “Well, this is a big FAIL.”  If it hadn’t been for the water stash, I would have turned around after two miles and driven home.  But, I wanted the other runners to know where the water was stashed just in case the weather really heated up and they needed it.  I know all too well the dilemmas of running out of water. 

I thought I might catch up with the rear of the group at three miles. 

No runners in sight. 

Five miles, no runners in sight. 

Well, dang it, I really didn’t think I could take the pain much longer, and it looked like I was never going to catch up with the group.  So, I flagged down a motorcyclist.  I asked him if he would relay a message to the next group of runners he came upon.  “I’m not going to make the loop.  I’m in pain.  Slow down or wait so I can reach you and tell you where the water is.”   (The message was actually shorter, but relayed the same info.)

With the motorcyclist driving off, I felt great relief knowing I would turn around soon.  Within minutes Janine and Philip came hiking around the corner and exclaimed, “You weren’t that far back!  We were just up the way.”  What a fantastic sight to see these smiling trail runners.  By this time I was only two miles from “Four Corners,” and when I found out Janine and Philip weren’t doing the loop, but an out-and-back, I continued upward with the two.  Their company took my mind off the shins.

We made it to Four Corners with plenty of water to refill our packs.  I was surprised to see none of the other runners had waited.  I’ve done a group run on this loop several times and every time before, the group waited for everyone at “Four Corners.”  It’s not a rule or anything.  Just kind of an unspoken thing that didn’t happen today. 

More water for us, though I hoped the others wouldn’t run out.  They had a tough load ahead of them with no shade.  While taking in the views, two cyclists came up Harding Truck Trail and we shared our plentiful source of water with them while chatting and laughing over trail stories.

The 7.5 miles down Maple Springs was tough on my shins.  It wasn’t as painful, but still I experienced difficulty.  Philip and Janine would quickly get ahead, while I struggled to keep a decent pace.  They waited though every so often.  Each time I’d turn a corner to see one or the other waiting, it put a smile on my face. 

Ends up I got in 15 plus miles with friends, so it wasn’t so much a “Fail.”  In fact, I’d call it a success.  Good conversation, laughter and plenty of water.

Time to start working on my shins.  I’ve been running low mileage weeks lately.  Perhaps I increased my mileage too quickly.

Where my Angels and Demons Reside

Every time I run trails, I look up at Santiago Peak wistfully.  I so yearn to run up there, to the place called “Talking Peak.” I want to stand high above the clouds and look over the counties, and say to myself, “I did it!”  At the same time, I’m scared to death of the place.  The last time I made that trek was during Old Goat 50.  It was the most miserable trek I’ve ever made in my life.  I hit the base of Holy Jim at approximately mile twenty-eight, and like a zombie made those 8 uphill miles to the peak.  I really don’t know how I was able to put one foot in front of the other on that day. 

Since then, I’ve run Holy Jim several times.  But then again, I’ve had many good times with Holy Jim.  Though gorgeous it is, the three miles on the Main Divide up the the peak has NEVER been my friend.  Never, ever.

On Thursday, the 4th of July holiday, I left home under darkness and made that hour drive into Trabuco canyon.  The off-road portion was particularly bumpy.  I drove it slowly because I’m worried.  I’ve been giving my truck quite the beating lately.

Not a single car was parked in the lot as I took off up Holy Jim at 6:15 AM.  The gnats were heavy in the foresty lower portions of Holy Jim.  I breathed in a couple of those tiny black critters through my nose.  Believe me, the cool weather made the gnats bearable. 

Running through a fig tree tunnel on Holy Jim:

As usual, I felt relief and comfort when I hit the switchbacks.  I knew I’d be at this back-and-forth, back-and-forth for a long time.  I didn’t count them, the switchbacks that is.  I didn’t look forward in the run.  I simply enjoyed the beauty moment by moment.  I stopped a few times to snap photos.  The photos didn’t pick up the angels, but I know they were there.

A male runner passed me about half way up.  He took that trail like a storm.  Gnats swarmed in on me in the shady, final stretch out of Holy Jim.  When I reached the Main Divide, I took pictures of my face covered in gnats, because that’s what I do.  Just then, another runner came up out of Holy Jim.  We hiked the next mile or so together, which made the trip much more bearable.  Still, I felt the struggle big time.  I also worried some about my fluids.  The weather was heating up quickly, and I felt constantly thirsty. 

While talking to this other runner, Mark, I learned that we live in the same town, that we have a son the same age, and they will both attend the same high school in September.  I thought it odd that I didn’t know this family.  And I thought the man looked a little familiar.  That’s normal though.  I come across so many people through the days, that I’m left in a daze with practically everyone looking familiar. 

When Mark took off ahead of me to the peak, my travel slowed quite a bit.  The heat bared down heavily.  Large “horse” flies bit at my neck, arms and legs.  One even bit my hand.

The remaining trip up to Santiago Peak was pretty hellish.  Bug bites, gnats, waning water, a hot breeze, you name it.  I told myself, “Giddy-up girl.  Get it done!”  And onward I went, one foot in front of the other.  Then a memory popped into my head, seemingly out of nowhere.  It was of Mark (the guy I had just met).  He was standing in my backyard, talking to my husband about our garden.  Mark was at my oldest son’s 5 year old birthday party!  Our sons went to the same preschool!! 

The Main Divide, heading up to Santiago Peak:

I drank my coconut water and took in some calories as I continued up, up, up.  About a quarter mile from the peak, I met up with Mark as he ran back down.  He got a chuckle out of my revelation, thought it was crazy that I would remember.  He said that he “vaguely” remembered something of what I described.  We chatted briefly about the various preschool teachers we had seen over the years (Boy, does time fly!)

In no time I could see the towers.  But I still had some climbing.  Before I summited, I began looking around for water stashes.  Not finding any, I hiked up to the summit.  Surely, I thought, someone would have stashed water there. 

No water.  

I made it though.  I actually made it to Santiago Peak.  I sipped my fluids (water plus Nuun tablets) as I walked out to the viewpoint and took in the Pacific Ocean and all the cities below.  I spent about ten minutes simply wandering about, relishing my “now.”  I also took some of that time looking for water stashes. (No luck.)

Santiago Peak:

I ran back down The Main Divide at a steady pace.  I drank when I needed, but knew at that rate, I was going to run out quickly.  I stopped where some races set up an aid stop, and looked around for some stashes.  (Nothing.)

My sips grew smaller as I made my way into Bear Springs, the Holy Jim Intersection.  There had to be water there.  I felt confident.  I know some friends who stash near there.  Disheartened, all I found were empty jugs and bottles. 

Running back down The Main Divide:

I did not panic.  In fact, I knew that I’d be okay.  A mere two miles away a tiny spring flowed out of the mountain wall, year round.  That spring had fulfilled me on many occasions.  I realized that mentally, I was with it.  Physically, I was not.  My gait was awkward.  It felt like my body wanted to break down.  It wanted to plop in the shade and lay there, perhaps nap.   

Before I headed down Holy Jim, I had a choice to make:  what to do with the remaining fluids.  I could conserve and sip tiny bits for as long as possible.  That wasn’t going to get me to the spring mentally or physically fit.  I decided to drink up until I felt satisfied.  And so I drank.  And I finished off all my fluids before even heading down Holy Jim.

I ran a half mile down that switchback feeling much relief having just drank the remainder of my fluids.  With 1 1/2 miles to the spring, I saw the landside in the canyon that is just before the spring.  Foolishly I focused on that slide for an entire half mile.  It didn’t do my mind good.  The yearning was too much to take, and that half mile dragged on miserably. So, I decided not to look at the slide and ran the remaining mile in, feeling pretty decently.

The spring came down in a constant quick trickle.  Using my coconut water container I filled my entire hydration pack (68 fluid ounces), drenched myself, and drank two whole containers of cold water in that shady spot.  What a tremendous relief!

The remaining three miles down, though hot, were pleasurable with a full pack of spring water.  I got my body back.  It no longer wanted to collapse in the shade. 

The best thing about the entire trip, besides summiting and meeting another fellow trail runner, was that I kept my wits about me in a potential crises situation.  It’s good to know where you’re running.  I’m fortunate that way, very fortunate for my running friends over the past years who have shown me the way. 

Be the Chick who Loves to Run in Heat

Something has got to give!  Starting a run in extreme heat is much more difficult than beginning early in the morning when it’s cooler, and gradually working myself into the heat.

The heat wave is still on in the western states.  There’s been deaths, fires, and immense tragedies (we lost 19 elite firemen yesterday in one forest fire).  We are fortunate locally.  Historically, we’ve got a few months before fire season.  And the heat deaths have been east of us, or in Nevada and other western states.  For us here in Southern California, it’s just damn HOT. 

If you are a reader, you are familiar with my dilemma.  I am a morning runner.  But my summer job assignment forces me to run afternoons.  And thus, I hit the trails this afternoon at approximately 1:40 PM.

About a mile in, I suffered immensely.  My body felt heavy, my eyes already stung from salt.  I wanted very badly to turn back.  Exasperated, I phoned my husband and asked, “How hot is it right now?” 

This is what he did:  he busted up laughing.

This is what I did:  I hung up on him.

When my husband, my coach called me back, he spoke to me in the way that he knows motivates me.  We have known each other for thirty-two years (gasp!), and he knows a little bit about me.  

“Don’t be a baby who can’t run in the heat,” he said.  “You know what precautions to take.  YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THIS.  Be the chick who loves to run in the heat.”

Just minutes earlier I wanted to fall to the ground in a heap of tears.  Strange how his words, “be the chick . . . “ changed my motivation.  Suddenly, I wanted to learn to be the chick who loves to run in the heat. 

And so I ran. 

And I was MISERABLE.  But, I knew what precautions to take.  I kept hydrated.  I didn’t try to break any personal pace records.  I kept on the lookout for environmental hazards.  I enjoyed the summer beauty.

First thing I did when I reached Top of the World was unpack my bandana.  I drenched it and lay it on my neck.  Then I ran into the city park and guzzled down at the fountain (even though I had a pack on my back).  I washed down my face in the public bathroom, soaked my hat.  Then I drenched my bandana again and draped it over my head for the run back.

I don’t need no stinkin’ air-conditioning: 

I ran a little over 6.5 hilly miles this afternoon.  And I think that was quite enough.  I’m not yet the chick who loves to run in the heat.  But at least, I didn’t turn back.

Harding Hustle / Maple Springs Aid

I woke to a 4:30 AM alarm and frantically searched my brain.  “What am I supposed to do?”  Eventually I realized that I was working the Harding Hustle race in Modjeska Canyon.  Let me tell you!  I was so happy to remember that I was working this race and not running it.  Why?  First off, because I was so dang fatigued.  But most importantly, because we’re in the middle of a so-called “heat wave.”  I wouldn’t have wanted to run uphill for approximately 16 miles for a turnaround and downhill for the same length. Practically the entire route is exposed, with very, very little shade. (I should not forget to mention the bees and gnats.)

So much to tell from this wondrous event, as I always have so much to tell from working races.  I can’t possibly cover it all.  First off, I met fellow blogger Giraffty. She was working “Check-in.”   We’ve been reading & commenting on each other’s blogs, for it seems years.  I recognized Heather the instant I saw her.  She is even more beautiful and smiley than online.

I also worked with a wonderful crew.  There were 7 of us: 4 aiding the runners, 1 medic, the radio (HAM) guy and his wife/girlfriend.  We set up at the top of Harding Truck Trail, a place called “Four Coroners,” where I commonly run.  Because I am a chronic water stasher, I took advantage of ride up and stashed the jugs of water that I purchased the night before.

The quick recap of the day goes like this:  We were beneath the hot, hot sun for many hours.  Over 100 f degrees.  I saw runners come in triumphantly.  I saw runners come in beaten.  Some runners had their wits about them, others couldn’t think straight.  A few runners cracked.  They flat out lost the mental battle.  And for them they had a nice air conditioned drive down to the finish.  Others dropped down to a shorter distance race.  One runner, took off the wrong way at about mile 23.  She began running down Maple Springs Road, which would have dumped her several miles from the finish.  Because we all thought that she had tucked into the bushes for a potty break, we did not realize her error for quite a while.  That made her error our error.  With many minutes head start, I could not catch her down a wretchedly hot Maple Springs.  At times I could see her far off in the distance.  I yelled out in my loudest voice, to no avail.  Pretty quickly, the HAM operator picked me up in his truck, and we drove about 3 miles before picking her up.  I broke the news to runner with apologies.  Turns out, she was a great spirited girl, and she laughed and laughed about her mistake.  Driving her back to our aid, she took in some fluids and instead of DNFing, she actually ran the 9.3 miles back.

I came to realize some things about endurance running yesterday.  The main thing is, the first  and yes, greatest triumph comes from taking off at the start line.  The other thing is, the main defeat is not your time nor whether or not you finish.  It’s whether or not your mind remains strong during all the obstacles that are hurled at you during the event.  Rarely does everything go smoothly.  Instead, you’ve got things like boulders, locked gates, extreme heat, hydration and fueling mistakes, wrong turns, falls, dropped water bottles, blisters, rolled ankles, etc., etc., etc.   On a good day, a runner keeps his/her wits about him – that is, there’s little panic or desperation.  Instead, despite the unknowns thrown at him, he keeps his mental strength.  Even a strong runner though has his collapses.  I know first hand about those collapses.  And I saw them second hand today.  Fortunately, there’s a silver lining.  After crawling out of that mental “defeat,” there is so much to learn.  There’s actually much more to learn, about yourself, about running, about life, in these defeats than there is in the triumphs.  And that’s a good thing.

Scenes from the day: